Lilac & Eggshell Green for Life
by Guardian Fox
Summary: Leroy and Hiram Anderson-Berry are new to the trials of parenthood, but are open to all experiences coming their way. Ch. 1- they regret their enthusiasm when the twins keep them up all night; but lack of sleep makes the heart grow fonder.


"Oh, my God. Shhh, baby, shhh. Please stop crying."

Leroy bounced the distressed little boy tiredly in his aching arms, determinedly keeping his gaze away from the coo coo clock hanging next to the shuttered window where only the thin light of the streetlamp outside was edging through.

He would not think about work tomorrow. He would not do the math in his head to calculate the hours of sleep that had already passed him by, and add to them the few hours he had left before the sun rose. Only a thin veil of determination, that by now had waned to desperation, closed the door in his mind and prevented those thoughts from running on.

"Want some coffee?"

Leroy turned gently on the spot to see Hiram leaning against the doorframe, housecoat tied loosely around himself and two mugs of steaming coffee in his hands. The smell was enough to rejuvenate him a bit, but unfortunately it seemed to have the same effect on the wailing child in his arms, whose cries only got louder and more frantic as the smell of coffee began to permeate the room.

"Get it out of here," Leroy moaned tiredly. Hiram realised what was going on and hurriedly backed out of the room, nearly splashing coffee all over the wall in his haste to leave.

Leroy sighed regretfully as he watched Hiram go and take the coffee with him. Perhaps it was time to switch. Hiram seemed to have read his mind, as he reappeared in the doorway, hands now empty of any coffee mugs and walked towards his husband with open arms.

"You need a break, even if that little one isn't willing to give you one. I left the coffee on the dresser in the hallway. Go have a sip." Leroy smiled gratefully and then they went through the awkward shuffle of transferring a baby, a loud, fussing baby no less, between themselves, just another things Leroy hoped they would perfect with practice. With one last grateful look, Leroy retreated from the room to take refuge in the coffee, leaving Hiram holding his son in the stillness of the nursery.

But just because things were still didn't mean things were silent.

If it was possible, baby Blaine's cries seemed to grow louder with Leroy's exit. Hiram took a deep breath and held his boy closer to his chest, carefully cradling his small head over his heart. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Hiram took a steadying breath, sent out a prayer to David Crane and Marta Kauffman, and then with quick, sharp movements, he swung his body from side to side in jerky, abrupt movements.

Blaine's wailing became choppy as the momentum took his breath away. Hiram shut his eyes tight and kept swinging, heart beating faster and faster until as the boy's cries slowly subsided.

There was a smattering of hurried footsteps from the hall, and suddenly Leroy came running into the bedroom. "Hiram, what on earth are you doing?" He came up behind his husband and wrapped his arms around his torso, trying to still his motions.

"Leroy, it's okay, it's working," Hiram panted, slowing to a stop now that Leroy had plastered himself around him. He looked down into his arms at their boy, whose face was flushed, but whose frantic cries has somewhat subsided.

"Hiram, what the hell were you doing?"

"Well, it worked when Rachel did it that one time..."

"Rachel?" Leroy wondered. Then it hit him.

"No, give me the baby. As soon as you take babying advice from a TV show it means you've had enough."

Hiram's breath stuttered as he handed Blaine over to Leroy, who cuddled the whimpering baby to his chest. It was then that the full impact of what he'd just done hit him full-force.

"Oh my God, Leroy, Blaine. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." He ran his hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp in distress.

"Hey, shhh," Leroy soothed. "Nothing bad happened."

"But what if it did?" Hiram cried, and Leroy had to shush him again for fear of Hiram's distress transferring to the baby. "Oh my God I just almost killed our son because of _Friends_."

"You didn't almost kill him," Leroy whispered. "You're tired and you got desperate. I don't think Blaine was in any real danger. I'm tired, and I overreacted. That's all it was."

Hiram took a deep breath and managed to get a handle on his jitters, could feel his over-tired nerves fraying at the edges, but calming their sparking.

"This isn't the first night we've been up with the kids, and it won't be the last."

Hiram shook his head.

"You say that like we're old pros. We haven't even had them for a trimester yet, and look at us, falling apart."

"I guess it's expected, first-time parents and all," Leroy sighed. They both lapsed into defeated, contemplative silence.

Suddenly Leroy realised it wasn't just them that were contributing to the quiet. He looked down at the scrunched up red face in his arms. A small cough emitted from the baby's tiny mouth, followed by a few gurgles. Leroy picked up a corner of the purple blanket the baby was wrapped in and wiped at the spittle and bubbles, catching them before they could roll past his chin and into the creases of his neck. He hefted the boy onto his shoulder and started patting his back, giving burping one final attempt.

Hiram again ran a hand through his dishelved hair.

He came up behind Leroy and patted the dark curls atop his son's head, frowning when he emitted small whimpers.

"Do you think he's sick? Or what if I really hurt him? Maybe we should take him to the doctor tomorrow."

Leroy shook his head. "I already called mom. She said new babies can just be fussy. She doesn't think it's anything serious."

"But what if we've been waiting this whole time, when we should have been driving to the hospital? Rachel could be sick too! I don't know how she's sleeping through this tantrum."

"You got her to sleep?" Leroy asked, head jerking up to stare disbelievingly at Hiram.

"About an hour ago," he replied. "I thought things might be easier with some music, so I turned the radio on. Turns out it was set to that Broadway station we sometimes listen to, and they played that Streisand song, _The Way We Were_." For the first time that night, the worry lines marking Hiram's skin smoothed out, and Leroy watched as his husband finally relaxed as he recounted the instance.

"You should have seen her face, Leroy, it was like she'd been completely enraptured by Barbra. She cut off mid-cry and I swear she listened to the whole song, and fell asleep right at the end. She's in the car seat now, in the living room. I didn't want to bring her back up until this one had tired himself out."

"I don't know if that's physically possible," Leroy sighed, looking down again at the small boy now squirming restlessly in his arms. He readjusted his hold to make sure he had a good grip and Blaine wouldn't fall off his shoulder. "Little Blaine has a battery that just keeps on going."

"Did you try the soother?"

"He spat it out before I could even get it past his teeth."

"Try again, he looks more tired now. Don't you, sweetie-pumpkin?" Hiram finished in a goo-goo baby voice. Hiram felt him lean in and his breath tickled over his neck and Blaine's face. Blaine let out a small laugh.

They both gasped together. Leroy turned to face Hiram and brought Blaine down off his shoulder to cradle the small two-month-old infant in his arms.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered, not able to drag his wondering eyes away from the bright face of their son.

"His first laugh," Hiram breathed. "Shoot, why didn't we leave the camera's on?" He looked up mournfully at the video camera they'd placed on a shelf by the door to record the room at all times and capture each magical moment of their infants' first months of life, now plugged in and charging, red light regrettably off.

"Because we didn't think our twin angels would turn out to be such demons," Leroy chuckled, still staring down at little Blaine's tired almond eyes. The baby's face was quickly scrunching again, so he cooed at him and shifted so he could bring a hand up, tickling the baby's tummy. A smile cracked through Blaine's upset face, and he substituted the impending continuation of his tantrum for the second laugh of his life.

"Is that all you needed, baby?" Leroy laughed, "Poor boy just needed to show his Daddies that he'd learned how to laugh." He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up at Hiram. His eyes were bright and he seemed to have forgotten all about the neglected video camera, a proud smile having overtaken his features.

"I love you, so much," he said, and it was all he could manage before he leaned over and captured Leroy's lips in a searing kiss. Leroy returned it, pouring all his relief into the touch. They broke apart and leaned their foreheads together.

"Look at us. We're doing it."

"Doing what?" Leroy asked, his outpour of emotion having sapped the last few dregs of his energy as he blinked sleepily up at Hiram.

"Being parents," Hiram grinned.

There was a squirming between them, and then small fists were batting at each of their chests.

"Our boy seems to think we're stealing his spotlight," Leroy smiled. Hiram chuckled and tickled at Blaine's hand, who grabbed it and held on with all his infant strength, which was surprisingly a lot.

Blaine yawned and kicked tierdly, looking as if he was attempting to get comfortable.

"I think this one is finally ready for sleep."

Hiram nodded in agreement and stepped away from Leroy. "I'll go get Rachel and then we can all finally go to bed." He bent over and pressed a short kiss to Blaine's soft forehead. "Goodnight, Little Bee. No more fussing now," and he left the room quietly to retrieve their other child.

Leroy walked over to the mahogany crib to the left of the window and placed Blaine carefully inside. The little boy's eyes were completely closed now, and he snuffled away from his father as Leroy bent over to give Blaine his own kiss goodnight.

Leroy laughed to himself as he smoothed the blanked over the small boy. "Two-months old and already think you're too cool for your old man?" He pulled the side of the crib up and locked it into place, but stayed leaning over it and stroking his thumb over Blaine's tender cheek. "Well, too bad, baby. I won't be letting you go for a very long time."

Hiram entered then, carrying his own sleeping bundle of blankets and shuffling over to the white crib on the opposite side of the window. Leroy joined him there as he gently laid a soundly sleeping Rachel down and adjusted her green blanket around her.

"Do you ever wonder?" Leroy found himself asking, staring down at the soft features of his daughter's face. Hiram glanced questioningly at him as he raised and locked the side of the crib. "Wonder what?" he asked.

"Which is yours." Leroy elaborated. "Or if they're both yours, or mine."

Hiram wrapped an arm around Leroy's waist and turned them so they were facing both cribs, both of their children now sweetly, miraculously, asleep.

"As far as I'm concerned, they're both ours," he murmured. "It's a miracle. Conception through surrogacy is hard enough. Who'd have thought we'd be lucky enough to get twins out of the deal?"

Leroy nodded. It had been perfect. They'd both wanted more than one child when they'd talked about finally starting a family together. But surrogacy was so expensive, and not always reliable. In an inspired moment, it had been Hiram's idea to mix their sperm together, thinking it would somehow increase the chances of a successful pregnancy. To Leroy's chagrin over the audacity of that absurd logic itself, it had worked, and their creativity had awarded them with a set of twins. They had been adamant after the birth, however, that they didn't want to get paternity tests, the mystery seeming to draw their suddenly multiplied family closer together. But sometimes Leroy couldn't stop his over-analytical mind from exploring the possibilities.

"When they're older, and they ask about that, it'll be a fun story to tell them, at least," Hiram chuckled. Leroy grinned.

"That's parenthood, isn't it? Screwing up your children as much as mentally possible?" Hiram scoffed.

"I don't know what you're talking about, worst-dad-ever, but _my_ children are going to be the most well-adjusted ones on the playground." Leroy had to quickly muffle what would have been a loud guffaw sure to reawaken the slumbering twins.

"I clearly made a mistake with you," he murmured into Hiram's ear. "No child of yours is going to be well-adjusted and normal."

Hiram grinned. "Would you have it any other way?"

Leroy responded with a wet kiss of Hiram's grinning lips. "How boring," he quipped as he pulled away.

Hiram gazed at his husband lovingly before something on the wall caught his eye.

"Shit, we should be sleeping. We have to be awake again in three hours."

Leroy was barely able to contain his groan and the two of them made their way to the doorway of the nursery. "Goodnight little ones," Leroy murmured into the room. "Just sleep now. No more waking up Daddies."

Hiram blew a kiss into the room before they shut the door carefully behind themselves, the names Blaine and Rachel emblazoned on the door, crossing at the 'a'.

They settled into bed and lay still beneath their sheets, arms wrapping around each other as they did every night.

"Goodnight, Papa," Hiram whispered tiredly into Leroy's ear. Leroy yawned and returned the sentiment, "Goodnight, Daddy," as he snuggled into Hiram's side, exhaustion overtaking each of them almost instantly. The quiet sound of crackling static emanated from the baby monitors on the bedside table, taking precedence over the silence in the moments after their shared words. The static calmed and was overcome by the reassuring shuffling and murmurs of their twins, and this time, it was Blaine and Rachel who murmured and cooed, their soft voiced rocking their exhausted fathers to sleep.


End file.
